


A Christmas Story

by nomwrites



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: CW Charmed Secret Santa 2019, Case Fic, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Some angst, Time Travel, and possibly the Grinch, charmedsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22049533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomwrites/pseuds/nomwrites
Summary: Maggie caught the girl's arm and pulled her upright just as the vision hit:Time flew by and the world didn’t end. Fire and blood and pain became happiness and laughter and a pale yellow room, the color of the first rays of sunlight. The pitter-patter of children’s feet. The smell of flour and lavender and Earl Gray tea. The sharp tang of ozone—power. So much power. And love. So much love. And a picture.Her jaw dropped open. She stared at the girl. The girl stared back.“Oh. My. God.”
Relationships: Harry Greenwood & Macy Vaughn & Maggie Vera & Mel Vera, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 43
Kudos: 79
Collections: CW Charmed Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jnlnyaface](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jnlnyaface), [MsLetcher17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLetcher17/gifts).



> A CW Charmed Secret Santa 2019 gift fic for @jnlnyaface / @msletcher17.  
> Prompt: Macy's kid (daughter preferably) comes from the future to see what their parents were like when they were younger
> 
> I'm terribly sorry that this is unfinished. December was unexpectedly busy for me and I just could not get it done in time. Would probably have made it if I'd stuck with the original plan of 2k words but it blew up on me and my time management is the worst. But I promise that the other half will be posted during the first week of January. (ETA: Damn it. I should stop saying when I'm going to post things. Never comes true.)
> 
> Belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

—————

**MAGGIE**

SafeSpace Seattle buzzed with activity, a festive rush to get ready for the holidays waiting around the corner. The atrium dripped with cheer, strings of lights draped over banisters and doorways, glinting off the glass fronts like a thousand stars. Here and there, a hum of carols, often wordless, often absent-minded, drifted pleasantly. Spots of good-natured grousing and quickly hidden grimaces only added to the lively atmosphere. 

Tucked in a quiet corner to the side of the lobby, a gaggle of young men and women stood assembled in a loose circle. Their eyes flitted about curiously, some murmuring together while others simply fidgeted in silence. A few looked bored. A couple enthusiastic. And at least one looked slightly stoned.

With a smile and a jaunty swish of her bright yellow skirt, Maggie strode to the front. She was neither tall nor imposing, but after facing down literal hell, commanding the attention of a bunch of teenagers was easy. There was a noticeable ripple in the assembly, a hasty and confused effort to look presentable. 

“Hi, guys!” She waved, smiling wide. Not the most professional demeanor but she couldn’t help it: they were too adorable in their matching shirts and nametags. At twenty-one, she wasn’t much older but they were barely out of high school and looked it. “I’m Maggie, office manager and Helpful Elves liaison. For the next two—”

A boy with a shock of blue hair raised his hand. “Helpful Elves? What’s that?”

Maggie peered at his nametag. “Good question, Dylan. There was a last minute vote about what to call you guys because a lot of people found ‘holiday relief crew’ too awkward to say. Also, you know, lame. ‘Helpful Elves’ won the vote.”

“But that’s kinda boring,” Dylan said. “Wasn’t there anything else?”

“Nothing that isn’t too embarrassing to say out loud. My colleagues think they’re funny, unfortunately,” Maggie said. Mel, in particular, had a great time coming up with unspeakably bad puns. Swan, in an effort to be helpful, had unintentionally egged her on and the room had devolved into a stand-up free-for-all. In the end, Maggie had picked the least ridiculous name on the board and literally ran with it. “So for the next two weeks, you’ll be SafeSpace Seattle’s little Elves—” There was a round of pinched looks. “Helpers? Okay. Helpers, it is. Your schedule will be pretty flexible. Sometimes there’ll be assigned tasks but most of the time, I just want you guys to walk around, meet people, and see if they need help. Text me or tell me in person when you’re engaged so we can coordinate. Any questions?”

“You’re so young,” a tall girl near the back blurted out. When someone snickered and a few heads turned her way, she blushed scarlet. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, um—”

“It’s okay. I get that a lot…” She peered at the girl’s name tag and grinned. “Will. Oh, cute name. Let me guess—short for Willow?”

Will smiled back. “Close.”

“Did you have a question?”

The girl shook her head, tugging awkwardly at a lock of curly hair around her neck as she looked away. Maggie tilted her head, trying to see around a boy whose shoulders looked like they could hold up a house. She felt like she’d seen the girl somewhere before.

Dylan raised his hand again. 

Maggie laughed. “You don’t have to keep raising your hand, Dylan.”

“Who’s that?” He asked, pointing to the middle of the atrium.

“That’s Swan,” Maggie said, watching as the bespectacled woman stood in the middle of the beehive, directing traffic while balancing a tray of little pudding cups in her other hand. “Who you all should totally meet. Come on, I think those apps are calling us. And then I’ll give you guys the tour.”

Later, as Maggie was about to lead her group down the little alcove near Spellbound Botanica, she couldn’t help but notice that the girl, Will, lingered behind, staring at something at the end of the hallway. There was nothing there, of course, and no soul in sight. There was only an access door to the corridor that led to the parking lot and a maintenance room that almost no one ever noticed.

The girl shook her head, bit her lip, and hurried to rejoin them.

Maggie frowned. Weird.

—————

The door was heavy, a big slab of wrought-iron so solid it could have stopped a charging herd of Kyons. But like magic, it swung open easily and silently, and Maggie leapt through with giddy panache.

“Hello, lovebirds!” she called out. But her targets only looked up with identically amused expressions, calm and unbothered. They sat together at the long oak table, surrounded by open books, yellowed papers, and a humming laptop. Craning her neck to peer down at their hands, she sighed. “I know you said you wanted to take it slow but come on—you’re not even holding hands! I want you both to know that you’re a disappointment to me.”

“Hey, Maggie,” Macy said, smiling briefly before something on the screen caught her attention. Harry only rolled his eyes and turned back to a book that looked like it had seen better days. 

“It’s like I care about your relationship more than you do,” Maggie groused, skipping down the stairs in a huff. 

“Maybe you do,” Harry said, with such casual dismissiveness it froze Maggie in her tracks.

But before she could work up either shame from overstepping her bounds or panic borne from the messy and all too recent heartaches of yesteryear, Macy said, “ _Harry._ Stop teasing her.”

“But she makes it so easy,” he said, chuckling as he turned a page with careful fingers.

Maggie looked between them. “So you’re...good?” she asked, voice small and uncertain.

Harry looked up at her then, expression immediately turning contrite. “Yes, of course we are. I’m sorry, Maggie.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Bad joke. I’m afraid I’ve been making a lot of them lately.”

Macy reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. “Growing pains. It’ll settle down.”

“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Harry said, a little strained, but he smiled gratefully at Macy and briefly touched Maggie’s arm when she came close. “How goes the holiday preparations then?” 

Relieved, Maggie smiled brightly. “It’s going great actually. The Helpful Elves are all present and accounted for. One of the girls, Will, could give you a run for your money, Mace. That girl definitely drank her milk growing up. Swan has a surprisingly tactical eye for mistletoe placement—totally optional, of course—and Jordan is really useful.” At the bemused looks, she clarified, “He’s great at decorating high places.”

“‘Helpful Elves’ won? What an uninspired name.” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “I liked ‘Jingle Bellhops’ better.”

She groaned. “I knew Mel was live texting you.”

“Oh!” Macy raised her hand. “My vote goes to ‘The Green-Shoe League’.” 

“Verging on copyright infringement, isn’t it?” Harry said, smiling.

“Public domain,” Macy said, smiling back at him. “I looked that up last night after you were finished.”

“Guys,” Maggie said, eyebrows raised. “I’m still here. Maybe talk about your sex life in private, okay?”

Harry and Macy both went red as a tomato.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“ _Maggie Vera—”_

“He’s been reading Sherlock Holmes to me—”

“ _—_ terribly inappropriate—”

“It was his turn so—”

“Oh my god!” Maggie squealed, smiling so wide her cheeks ached. She clasped her flailing hands together before she could hit one of them in the eye. “You’ve been reading to each other in bed. This is amazing. This is so amazing! You’re literally the _biggest nerds_ in the world. I can’t wait to tell Mel.”

“Yes, well.” Harry coughed, shooting a look at Macy. Macy nodded and as one, they turned to Maggie, haughty eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re terrible at naming things.”

“It’s embarrassing, Mags.”

“Appalling.”

“I’ve seen children name their pet rocks with more imagination.”

“No harm in admitting mistakes, is there, Macy?”

“None at all, Harry.”

“You know where my vote goes if you change your mind.”

“And you know where mine goes. We can ask Mel her—”

“No more votes!” After glaring them both into laughing submission, Maggie decided to call a draw and studied the mess on the table instead. “So what’s all this about?” She leaned over Macy’s shoulder to read the article on the screen. “Missing…carolers?”

Abruptly, the atmosphere in the room changed. The light-hearted air dissipated, replaced by the more professional demeanor they usually fell into when they were dealing with a mission. 

Macy nodded, lips pressed together grimly. “Right here in Seattle. Four so far since December started. No common physical characteristics among the victims as far as anyone can tell. None of them appear to have known each other—”

“—but their caroling groups have intersecting routes and it’s undoubtedly there that trouble found them,” Harry said. “All the witnesses reported a strange high-pitched noise on the night of their caroling and once the noise stopped—”

“One of them was missing,” Macy finished. “Different nights, different groups—same reports.”

Harry paused, giving Maggie an odd look. “...why are you looking at us like that?”

Caught out, Maggie said sheepishly, “It’s just really adorable how you finish each other’s sentences.”

Macy sighed. “ _Maggie._ ”

“I know, I know. Not the time.” She didn’t point out that Harry looked amused. He’d always had a strange sense of humor but it could have been Jimmy’s influence too. They weren’t quite one and the same yet, the halves still integrating, but it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference. “I’m good. Do we know what’s targeting the carolers yet?”

“A few possibilities.” Harry tapped a finger on the page he was studying. “A type of ghoul perhaps. Stalking groups and preying on the stragglers are quite within their wheelhouse. It could also be a restless spirit of the solstice, leading humans astray for some reason. That would certainly be preferable.”

“Because at least the spirits won’t eat them?” The hand-drawn picture of a ghoul in action was impressively detailed. And really gross. Her fingers itched to slam the book closed. 

“It would up their chances of being alive, at least,” Macy said. She paused, head tilted. “I mean, I guess the ghouls could be keeping them alive too but that would require—”

Maggie hurriedly cut in, “Nope. I don’t want to hear it. I have enough nightmares at night, thank you.” Clapping her hands to dispel the image in her mind, she asked, “What else?”

“The Grinch.” She stared at Harry. He shrugged. “Mel’s suggestion. She thinks supernatural creatures are probably ‘cranky’ around the holidays. Too much cheer and joy and whatnot. After everything we’ve seen, I suppose a creature specifically targeting carolers to ruin Christmas isn’t out of the realm of possibility.”

“Or it could be something different,” Macy said, the aggravated expression on her face indicating she didn’t like the possibility any more than Maggie did. Talk about ruining your childhood. “You know, something that wasn’t created for children.”

“Yes, of course,” Harry said, tone a little too agreeable.

Macy gave him a look. “You want it to be the Grinch, don’t you?”

“I’m merely giving Mel’s theory due consideration.” 

“Uh-huh.” Shaking her head fondly, Macy said, “You both better hope the Grinch doesn’t eat people.”

“Can we stop talking about people being eaten?” Maggie asked, grimacing at yet another mental image she didn’t need. “So what do we do now?”

“Harry and I are going to go interview the carolers. Maybe there’s something they haven’t told the police or just didn’t make the reports.”

Harry nodded. “And the four of us will split in pairs tonight, join some of the caroling groups to keep watch. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and capture the creature before it can do more harm.”

“Right. Good plan,” Maggie said. Then with a mischievous grin, she added, “Just don’t let Mel sing. It might go after her first just to stop the torture.” 

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed: _Shut up, Mags._

Narrowing her eyes at Harry, Maggie said, “Macy, your boyfriend is a tattle-tale.”

“I know. I’m so ashamed,” Macy said, belying her words immediately by taking Harry’s hand and threading their fingers together. Her eyes never left the glowing screen, but the dusting of pink on her cheeks gave her away. Harry didn’t seem to be any less affected, going still as he stared at their joined hands. The look in his eyes as he shifted his gaze to Macy’s face was incredibly soft.

Maggie smiled at them, unable to keep up the pretense of being annoyed.

They really were just too adorable.

—————

**MEL**

The Angelica plant was blooming. Its flowers were soft and delicate, with white umbels that glowed under the sunlight streaming through the window. It was beautiful but the blooms often meant the plant was going to die soon. Mel touched one stalk with the tip of her finger and wondered how much longer it would last. 

“Hello?”

Mel stood up with a smile. “Hi. How can I help you?”

The young woman at the door looked barely out of highschool. People her age usually came in to wander curiously around and ask Mel if any of this ‘magic stuff’ actually worked. Her standard response was to offer them tea, and answer questions as vaguely as possible until they got bored. Or actually bought something. 

Letting the door close behind her gently, the girl tapped her shoes off on the welcome mat with absent-minded politeness. She was strikingly tall, possibly even taller than Macy. Mel sighed. Why did she keep meeting people taller than her? 

“I’m here to meet the owner?” the girl said, green eyes studying Mel with an odd intensity. 

“That would be Katrina Chandra,” Mel said, reaching behind the counter to switch the kettle on just in case. “I’m Mel. I manage the store for her full-time. You can leave a message if you want?”

“Oh, I’m a ditz. I’m supposed to meet the manager, not the owner. Must have remembered wrong.” The girl crossed the room in three strides, shaking Mel’s hand enthusiastically. “Hi! I’m Will. It’s so nice to meet you!”

“It is?” Mel asked, a little taken aback. She peered at the tag pinned to the girl’s shirt. “Oh! You’re one of the Helpers.”

“That’s right. I’ve already met Au-- I mean, Miss Maggie. She told us to introduce ourselves around and see if any of the proprietors and staff needed any assistance. We’re here to help,” Will finished brightly, then seemed to realize that she was still shaking Mel’s hand vigorously and abruptly let go. “Oh. Sorry.” 

“It’s...fine. Just try to dial it down a little, okay?” When the girl deflated, Mel felt strangely guilty. There was a great difference in height, but she was reminded suddenly of Maggie’s kicked-puppy-dog face, the one she pulled out when she thought she’d done something wrong. “You know, I don’t really need any help right now but I’m about to make tea. Do you want some?”

She looked up hopefully. “Yes, please! I-I mean… I would like that, thank you.”

“Why don’t you go sit down?” Mel said, gesturing to the small table set in a sunny corner of the shop. She was tempted to just dig out a couple of old mugs but whatever guilt she’d felt was a lingering little thing so the fancy tea tray it was. Some digging into the back of the tiny snack pantry behind the counter produced a pack of unfinished cookies.

“Royal Doulton!” Will said, as Mel set the tray down. She picked up one of the cups, turning it this way and that. “It’s so pretty.” Quietly, as if talking to herself, she muttered, “I wonder what happened to it.”

“What happened to what?”

“What?”

“Is there an echo in here? You said you ‘wonder what happened to it’.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just remembered we—my family had a similar set a long time ago.”

“Your family’s serious about tea too, huh?”

“My dad is.” The girl put the cup back down reverently, smiling softly. “He’s about as English as they come. I can pick out Royal Doulton from Wedgwood at a hundred paces.”

“I know someone like that,” Mel said, the corner of her mouth quirking as she poured carefully. The scent of bergamot wafted up with the steam. “This set is his actually. And the tea.”

“Sounds like the kind of guy I’d like to meet,” Will said, her tone a little too interested for Mel’s liking.

“Yeah, well, you’ll probably see him around Maggie. I think she wants to rope him into what’s left of the decorating. But he’s usually with my other sister, Macy.” Nudging the pack of cookies toward her, Mel added pointedly, “They’re together.”

Will’s jaw dropped open, eyes going wide. “Oh! Oh no. I wasn’t—I wasn’t, um, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Nope. Definitely not.” She grabbed a cookie and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, cheeks bulging like a squirrel. Looking everywhere but at Mel, she chewed like her life depended on it. Finally, she swallowed and hurriedly said, “That’s a really good biscuit. Um… I didn’t realize you and Miss Maggie were sisters. That’s, like, super cool.”

“Yeah. Your tea’s getting cold.” 

Mel watched, fascinated, as the girl turned the handle to forty-five degrees and lined up the saucer so the bright blue pattern was right-side up. She took two lemon wedges, squeezed each one neatly, and stirred in a teaspoon of honey exactly five times clockwise. Each action was practiced and precise, like a witch brewing a potion or a scientist measuring chemicals. 

(It reminded her of Harry whenever he got into a funk and making tea became a meticulous ritual. And of Macy when she was stressed, arranging and rearranging her workspace to pinpoint neatness.) 

Mel opened her mouth, about to ask—something. She wasn’t sure what but there was a tingling at the back of her mind. Not an idea or even the shadow of it, but a feeling she couldn’t quite pin down. 

The girl brought the cup to her nose, breathing in deep. For a second, her face crumpled like she was about to cry. 

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, stopping herself just before she could put a hand on the girl’s arm. She wasn’t usually so touchy-feely with strangers but something about Will was setting off her protective instincts. 

Will waved her off with an embarrassed smile. “I’m okay. Just feeling a little homesick. I’ve never been away from home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Just… far.”

Contrary to popular opinion, Mel did know tact. But it got in the way of conversation too often and really, what harm did being direct do? Talking to this girl wasn’t unlike counselling students back in Hilltowne. She’d always tried to make time for anyone who looked like they needed help even if being nurturing or being patient had never been her forte. Besides, if it didn’t work, she had Maggie and Harry in her back pocket. 

_Well, maybe not Harry so much right now_ , she thought, remembering the little flares of temper he was still trying to get under control. 

In any case, tact was for other people.

“Why aren’t you with your family then?” she asked, watching the girl’s eyes widen. Then unexpectedly, she laughed and looked at Mel with something like fondness. Too familiar for someone she’d just met. Strangely, she didn’t feel suspicious, just wrong-footed like she’d started watching a movie half-way through. She narrowed her eyes. “Did I say something funny?”

“I’m sorry,” Will said, grin half-hidden behind her tea. “You just reminded me of someone I know.”

“Yeah?”

“My aunt. Coolest person I know.”

“Okay. So…” Mel also knew persistence. In fact, most people would say it was her expertise. “Why aren’t you with your family?”

Fiddling with her teaspoon, the girl went quiet for a beat. She shrugged. “I’ve been having some problems at home. My parents are… They’re great. They’ve always been. But lately—”

“Not so much?”

“Yeah. It’s like ever since I came into my po—I mean, ever since I turned eighteen, they’ve been on me for everything. They were always kind of strict—my mom more than my dad, I guess—but reasonable, you know?” Blowing out a frustrated breath, she clenched and unclenched her hands. Then like a dam breaking, she poured out in a torrent, increasingly agitated with every word, “But now they’re basically watching me 24/7 and if use—if I do anything, I get grilled like I just did something bad and I swear I’m not! If I get angry or if I raise my voice, I have to sit through a lecture about controlling my temper like they think I’m just going to snap and, I don’t know, burn down the house or something. They look at me like I’m a bomb about to explode and sometimes _I feel like it_.”

“Hey, hey,” Mel said, getting up to take the seat next to Will. She put a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Breathe, Will. Just breathe.” 

Will closed her eyes, and did just that. When she opened them again, her breathing had steadied. “I just don’t understand. I don’t think I’ve done anything bad or… done anything to make them think I would.” She looked down, tracing the china with her fingers. “I don’t know what’s changed. My—the other kids in our house don’t get the same treatment. It’s just me.”

“Did you talk to anyone else in your family about this?” 

“I was going to talk to my aunts but—”

“But what?”

“I got into a really big fight with my parents and I just—I’d had enough. So I left.”

Neither of them said anything for a while after that. The girl seemed to need a sympathetic ear more than comforting words or a hug so Mel just poured more tea and waited. There was a honeysuckle plant near them, it’s scent familiar and calming. 

When only the dregs of her tea was left, Will said, “I’m going back, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” Mel said.

“Oh.”

“But that’s good to know, anyway. Family can be complicated but it’s worth working through all the shit that comes with it.” She smiled. Will smiled back. “So what’s keeping you here?”

“I’m trying to… get a different perspective, I guess.” Green eyes darkened with determination. That feeling coalescing in the back of Mel’s mind grew stronger. Something about this girl was familiar even though Mel was sure they’d never met before. “My cou—I know someone who’s got a very unique way of looking at things. She said I might find that here. I think I need it to understand. I think I need it to make my parents understand too.” 

“You’re pretty cool for a kid.”

That, for some reason, set Will off like she’d just said the funniest thing in the world. Frowning, Mel said, “What?”

Gasping for breath, Will said, “Nothing, nothing. It’s just—”

“What?”

“I think you’re too young to call _me_ a kid.”

“I’m almost ten years older than you.”

Will collapsed against the table, crying with laughter. Mel sighed, wondering if she’d have to go find a paper bag.

—————

**MAGGIE**

Maggie found her wayward intern in Spellbound Botanica, having tea with her sister and apparently about to die from asphyxiation. The girl had taken one look at Maggie’s face, muttered something unintelligible about taking pictures, and started giggling into her hands.

“She was calming down when you came in,” Mel said, watching the intern—Will—with a bemused expression. 

“Is there something on my face?” Before her sister could open her mouth, Maggie put up a hand. “Don’t answer that. Okay, my not-very-little Helper, I need you to, like, get it together now. We’ve been summoned to duty. Well, technically you’ve been summoned to duty and I’ll be supervising.”

The giggling stopped abruptly. Will’s expression turned serious. “Summoned? By what?”

“By the giant boxes of toy donations we have to sort through.” Maggie tapped her watch. She reached for Will’s arm. “Come on. I know hanging out with my sister is sometimes awesome but we totally have to go.”

“Oh!” Will shot out of her chair, rattling the table as she bumped into it. Maggie missed her sleeve by a centimeter. “That’s right. For the hospitals,” she said, a strained smile on her face as she walked around the table. “Thank you so much, Miss Mel. For the tea and for listening. I really needed that.”

“Just Mel is— _oof_!” With little protest or grumbling, Mel hugged Will back, patting the girl’s back awkwardly but firmly. There was a hint of fond exasperation in Mel’s face and Maggie could only stare at them, bewildered. When they separated, Mel said, “Just Mel is fine. And you can come back any time.”

“Really?” Will said, eyes lit up.

“Sure.”

Before more of the Twilight Zone could unfold around her, Maggie cleared her throat. “Girl, we gotta to go.”

“Right! Sorry, au—Miss Maggie.” Will smiled apologetically. “I’ll go on ahead.” 

Maggie watched her rush through the door, belatedly remembering to correct the name. She gave Mel a look, eyebrows raised. “What was that about?”

“There’s something weird about her,” Mel said, a distant look on her face like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. 

“Yeah, I got that feeling too. You think normal weird or… _weird_?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Maggie said. She stole one of the cookies on the table. Ooh, chocolate chip. She took a bite and grimaced. “This is stale.” 

“Will liked it.”

“Yeah, I think we already established she’s weird.” The cookie went back on the plate. Harry would never have allowed such a travesty so he probably hadn’t been by to meditate with Mel in a while. Maybe they needed to have a family meeting about that. Speaking of... “Did Harry and Macy leave already?”

“Yeah, they’re doing the interviews now.” Mel groaned. “Why can’t we have one Christmas without some supernatural shit going down?”

“Cheer up, sis,” Maggie said brightly. “Maybe the Grinch will show up.”

Mel perked up. “That’s something.”

“There’s the Christmas spirit!” She gave Mel a pat on the shoulder. “I gotta go. Try to warm up your voice for tonight!”

Maggie backed away, grinning, and let the door close on Mel’s glaring face. As she made her way back to the bustle of activity she was supposed to be supervising, she thought of the tall girl with the vaguely familiar face and really hoped she didn’t turn out to be a demon. She sighed, preparing for an afternoon of being suspicious and paranoid. 

Downstairs, the atrium was in a tizzy. Big boxes of toys were being shuffled around out of the way of the main foot traffic. Her little, and not-so-little Helper Elves, were already sorting through a couple of the bigger ones, dividing the toys into piles to be wrapped. She found Will struggling to get a giant teddy bear out.

“Here, let me help you,” Maggie said, digging into the box for the bear’s foot. It came unstuck with a mighty tug.

Will cried out in surprise, clutching the bear as she flew backwards at the sudden slack. Maggie’s reflexes were no slouch—she caught Will’s arm and pulled her upright just as the vision hit.

_Time flew by and the world didn’t end. Fire and blood and pain became happiness and laughter and a pale yellow room, the color of the first rays of sunlight. The pitter-patter of children’s feet. The smell of flour and lavender and Earl Gray tea. The sharp tang of ozone—power. So much power. And love. So much love. And a picture._

Maggie’s jaw dropped open. She stared at Will. Will stared back.

“Oh. My. God.”

—————

**WILL**

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thum—_

A hand caught her by the shoulder. From the corner of her eye, Will could see a shock of yellow fluttering next to her head. “Quit it,” the usually bubbly voice hissed sternly. “People are starting to stare. We so do not need the attention.”

Will glanced outside the office’s glass walls and was tempted to stick her tongue out at the passersby giving her weird looks. She straightened, rubbing her throbbing forehead. Maybe banging her head on the table to commemorate her incompetence wasn’t the best idea. Still. “I suck so bad, Aunt Mags. I couldn’t even stay incognito for one day.” She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “What if time unravels and it’s all my fault? What if it all changes like—like stepping on a butterfly and that butterfly was supposed to stop climate change or something?”

“What?”

“You know,” Will flapped her hands. Threw in a little wiggle too. “Time-travel rules. I saw it in a movie somewhere.”

“I...don’t think that’s how it goes.” Aunt Maggie sat down next to her, an absolutely bewildered look on her face. Stars, she was so young. She was also looking at Will a little suspiciously. “Shouldn’t a scientist’s daughter—oh my god I just said _daughter_ .” Maggie breathed in and out slowly. “Right. Okay. I’m totally not freaking out. I didn’t freak out downstairs. I’m not gonna freak out tonight when I’m with your—with your _parents_ ,” she whispered, a slightly wild look around her eyes. “I’m not freaking out now, okay?”

“Okay.” Will said.

“What was I saying? Oh, right.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Will. “How come a scientist’s daughter can’t explain time travel better?”

“Mom was a geneticist, not a physicist.” Will rolled her eyes. “And I’m _eighteen_ , Aunt Mags. The particulars of time travel aren’t exactly an interest of mine.”

Maggie’s eyebrows flew up, expression turning incredulous. “And yet here you are.”

Will opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Okay. I think, maybe, I may have done something rash.”

“You think?” Maggie stirred sugar into her coffee vigorously. “Why did you even come here? This is seriously _not_ good.”

Frowning, Will said, “I thought you’d be happy to see me. I mean, I didn’t intend for anyone to find out but if someone did, I thought—” She shook her head, angrily wiping off tears that suddenly sprung forth. Why was she such a cry baby? “I just thought you, of all people, would be on my side.”

“Hey,” Maggie said, pressing a tissue into Will’s hand. “Look at me. I _am_ happy to see you. You’re—” The look in her aunt’s eyes were suddenly nothing less than pure wonder. She studied Will’s face for a long time. “You’re _Harry_ _and Macy’s_ daughter. You have no idea what that means, Will. To them, after everything they’ve been through. To me and Mel.” She blinked rapidly, eyes shining as she reached for Will’s hand and squeezed tight. She swallowed. “You have no idea.” 

Will squeezed back, a little overwhelmed. The implications, the depth of emotion her aunt was unconsciously projecting… Will knew she was young and had grown up with all the love and protection a child could need—sometimes too much—but she’d seen her dad heal enough people to recognize the look of utter relief after suffering. She felt a weight on her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

“So,” Maggie said, dabbing at her eyes. She gave Will a rueful look. “Let’s try that again. Wanna tell me—No, wait. You said me ‘of all people’. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh, um…” Will smiled shyly. “You’re kind of my favorite aunt.”

“I am?” A grin lit Maggie’s face. “Not Mel?” 

“Well, Aunt Mel is the coolest, but yeah, you’re totally my favorite.”

“I want to put that on my Insta so bad.”

“What’s an Insta?”

Maggie looked poleaxed. “Is this what old people feel? Nevermind.” Clearing her throat, she said, “Like I said, let’s try that again… What brings you here, Will?”

How much information would be too much? Was time robust or delicate? Maybe she should have listened to her cousins and done more research first. But she’d just been so angry, lit up with something aching to burst under her skin, and decided not to just throw caution to the wind but set fire to it. 

(Why had she been so angry? She didn’t recall now. The fight with her mom and dad had been their worst one yet, but she’d said things that, in hindsight, had crossed the line. The desire to hurt, to wound had itched madly at the back of her mind. Why?)

Deciding to err on the side of caution, she stuck to what she’d already told Aunt Mel. Only this time, she didn’t hide behind euphemisms and managed to keep from having a breakdown.

“So can you help me, please?” Will finished, fingers twisting on her lap.

Maggie was quiet, a serious expression on her face. She looked more like the aunt Will had known her entire life—both the life of the party and one of the most responsible people she knew. “You said your friend told you to come to this time specifically?”

Her _cousin_ , actually, but that was one of the few things Will had decided to keep to herself. No need to threaten the space-time continuum any more than she had to. “Yeah, she said I’d find my answers here.”

Something settled in Maggie’s eyes. “Will,” she said, “I think I have an idea why your mom and dad are being like that.”

“You do?” Will leaned forward eagerly. “What is it?”

Shaking her head, Maggie smiled apologetically. “Explaining won’t help. This is kind of something you’ll have to understand for yourself.”

Will pressed her lips together, frustrated. “I’d understand if you’d just tell me.”

“Oh, girl, listen… I know what it’s like to be eighteen. It’s only been, like, three years for me. And I gotta tell you, getting a talk from someone, even someone I liked, wouldn’t have worked on me. I have a pretty good feeling it wouldn’t work on you either.” She met Will’s eyes kindly. “I promise I’ll help you. But you have to trust me.”

 _Empath,_ Will reminded herself ruefully. She nodded. “Okay. So what do we do?”

Clapping her hands decisively, Maggie said, “I think you have the right idea. The best way for you to understand is to observe your parents. But I don’t think that’s gonna be enough. You have to meet them. You know, talk, interact.” 

“What if they figure it out? They’re both really smart.”

“Yeah but they’re also really distracted right now.” 

“With what?”

“Stuff that you’re going to see for yourself. Also, the Grinch.”

“...what?”

Maggie snapped her fingers. “Wait! You could help us with that. Remind me to talk to you later about—” She hesitated. “Or maybe not. Using knowledge from the future is bad right?”

“Maybe?”

“Because that might change things.” Maggie frowned. “Like you not being born.” 

“I saw that in Back to the Future.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Does all your time travel knowledge come from movies?”

“Um… No?”

“Oh my god. I _am_ your favorite aunt,” Maggie said, this time despairingly. She picked up her phone and started typing. “Right. We’re gonna need Mel on this. She’s the time witch and we need someone to tell us if we’re being stupid.”

Will scrunched her nose, confused. “I’m pretty sure I got the impulsiveness that landed me here from her.”

Maggie laughed. “Well she’s definitely that, but you didn’t get that from Mel. Try somewhere closer. And British.”

“My dad?” Laughing herself, Will said, “I don’t think so. If my mom wasn’t on the list, he’d be the most cautious person I know.”

“Oh believe me, your dad’s sneaky impulsive. Totally comes out at the worst times too.”

Incredulous, Will said, “When I was a kid, he refused to let me stand in the rain because I might get sick.”

“Of course he did. After what happened with Carter, he was probably—”

“Carter?”

Maggie put down her phone. She frowned. “You know who Carter is, right?”

She nodded. Her half-brother. It was always odd to think of him—an older sibling separated by two generations. There were no pictures of him at their house and he was rarely mentioned, but her dad had told Will about his first-born when she’d been old enough to understand why she could never see him. 

“What happened with him?” She asked.

Maggie chewed her lip. “It’s not, like, some big secret but if Harry hasn’t told you, I’m not sure if I should.”

“He’s my brother. I think I have a right to know.”

There was another beat of hesitation, but eventually, “When Carter was young, like four or five I think, he got sick. Really, really sick. He almost died actually. I think that was the last memory your dad had of him before he became a Whitelighter. It really messed him up.”

So many things made sense suddenly. All the moments of overprotectiveness when she’d been a kid. It had been overbearing and slightly embarrassing. Her dad flipping out over one cough, one sniffle, or the beginnings of a fever. The way he spoiled her with anything she wanted. His inability to endure a single pout. She had the overwhelming urge to go home right then and hug him tight for a long time.

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Harry has a complicated relationship with his past.” Rubbing the inside of her arm, Maggie’s gaze turned distant, no longer seeing Will in front of her. “It’s what they used to torture him in Tartarus.”

Will’s eyes grew wide. “Tartarus?!”

“Oops.” Maggie winced. “Okay, that one I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to know about.”

“Too late. What happened?”

Before Maggie could answer, the door burst open and Aunt Mel came through like a charging bull. She grinned triumphantly—and a little crazily—at Will. Hands on her hips, she declared, “I knew it! I freaking knew it!” A beat. “Well, okay, I didn’t. But I knew something was up with you. Holy shitballs, you literally look like someone put a picture of Harry and Macy through one of those stupid baby maker apps.”

“Geez, Mel.” Maggie gestured at Will. “Language!”

“She’s eighteen. Will is short for Willa, right?”

“After my dad’s grandmother,” Will confirmed, grinning ear to ear. “Hi again.”

Mel grinned back. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Everything I told you was true. Just left out some of the names and stuff. Will you help me? Please?”

Mel gave her a long, considering look and exchanged a wry glance with Maggie. The grin returned to her face. “You bet.”

Unable to resist, Will jumped up, pulled Maggie along with her, and threw her arms around both her aunts. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Maggie hugged her back immediately, sniffling in her ear. Mel was a beat slower, but her grip around Will’s shoulder was just as tight. 

“Aunt Mags?”

“Yeah?” came the muffled reply.

“I still want to know about Tartarus.”

Mel groaned. “Maggie!”

Will smiled. Maybe being the worst at going undercover wasn't so bad when she had the best aunts in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

—————

**WILL**

Knees bouncing nervously, Will sat in the cafeteria and watched the entrance-ways like a hawk. There was a half-eaten bowl of pasta in front of her, but she couldn’t have told anyone what it tasted like if her life depended on it. A set of garlands hung over the coffee bar, mocking her merrily from their perch. She was tempted to knock it all to the ground with a thought. 

“Where is she?” she whispered, tapping her fork impatiently against the bowl. “You said she’d be here.”

“You don’t have to whisper. Just chill, girl,” Maggie said, picking through her salad. “Mel’s sending her over to get lunch for the C.C. We’re lucky Harry was too tired to make it himself this morning.”

Will made a disgusted face. “TMI, Aunt Mags.”

“What?” Maggie asked. Then the ball dropped and she threw a piece of chicken at Will. “Oh my god, this is karma. I meant, we didn’t get back from following the carolers around ‘til midnight. No joy there, by the way. Pun intended. And then a coven we work with called Harry for Whitelighter help at, like, 3 AM or something.” She must have seen the concern on Will’s face because she added, “It’s okay. He’s fine. The coven’s fine too.”

“Why did they call my dad? Were their Whitelighters busy or something?”

Maggie frowned, confusion on her face. Then her eyes widened, and a bolt of alarm projected right out of her. Several people around them sat up straight or stopped mid-chew, looking around with bewildered expressions.

“Will,” she said tightly, “We need to stop talking about this now.”

“What? Why?”

“I think you just gave me spoilers. Like, big time.”

“But I didn’t—”

Maggie shook her head. “Everyone knows there’s only one Whitelighter left. _Everyone_.” She put a firm hand on Will’s arm. “Understand?”

Impossible. Will knew at least a dozen Whitelighters by name. A few of them she’d known her entire life. How could there not be anyone in this time but her dad? The implications were too horrible to think about. First, Tartarus — which her aunts still refused to tell her about — and now this? What nightmare had she landed in?

“ _Will_.”

“O-okay,” she stammered, wiping off suddenly clammy hands on her jeans. Her stomach felt queasy. “I understand.” 

“Good,” Maggie said. Something over Will’s shoulder caught her eye. She stood up, a smile fixed on her face. “Showtime. Take a deep breath, okay? Your mom’s here.”

Will turned and all the questions crowding her mind fled.

Twenty-four years from now, Macy Vaughn would have faint lines around her eyes, the beginnings of a gray streak down one side of her hair, and another name attached to hers. Will had already seen the differences in her aunts, of course, but this was her _mom._ Her past, present, and future standing there in a striped jumper and a pair of scuffed sneakers. It occurred to her suddenly that being in the past had felt surreal, dream-like, but now she was staring at reality, rapt. And more than a little terrified.

“Stay here,” Maggie said. She gave Will’s shoulder a squeeze. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” A soothing wave of calm warmth flowed into her. “That’s it. You can do this. Just be casual.”

As Maggie led her mom over to their table, Will bit the inside of her cheek and schooled her face into something resembling normal. She bent over her bowl, pretending to be communing deeply with her lunch. Pushing the food around a bit, she strained hard to listen to the hushed conversation behind her.

“Come on, you can sit with us while you wait for your order,” Maggie was saying. “Mel’s going instead of Harry, right?”

“Yeah. I thought she wanted to stick around Spellbound to do some inventory while things were quiet, but I guess she changed her mind.”

“At least Harry can get some rest.”

“We both know he’s not going to but it’s a nice thought. Mel and I are interviewing the gnomes after lunch,” her mom said, apparently unconcerned about anyone overhearing her. Will suppressed a smile. That was definitely different. “I hope we don’t run into any trouble.”

“You think you will?”

“If the gnomes have anything to say about it — and they say a lot — we might. I don’t know if they’re actually prescient, but last time I saw them, it was like talking to those ‘end of times’ people you see on the street. The doom and gloom squad, except tiny and kind of funny-looking.”

“Maybe they’re just pessimistic.”

“They told me I’d be bound to darkness which, you know, is kind of true.”

“Shot in the dark.”

“Oh, Mags, no. I’m too hungry for puns.” 

Footsteps approached, echoing loudly in Will’s ears. A warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Will,” Maggie said. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Will swallowed, pasting on wide-eyed curiosity as she turned around. She’d expected the lack of recognition, hoped for it even, but it was still startling to see those familiar eyes looking at her like a stranger. The warmth in her voice while she was talking to Maggie was nowhere to be found in her expression. She didn’t seem unfriendly, exactly, but her gaze was cautious and she held herself a little stiffly.

“This is my sister, Macy. Macy, this is Will. She’s one of our SafeSpace Helpers.”

“Hi,” Her mom said, inclining her head politely. 

“Hello—,” Will started to say, but as she leaned on the table to push herself up, it wobbled and her hand slipped off, banging her elbow painfully into the edge. “ _Ow_! Fuckity fuck!” 

“Are you okay?” Her mom asked, cool regard turning into amusement. Maggie had a hand over her mouth, eyes crinkled at the corners. “You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”

“No, I’m good,” Will said, face hot with embarrassment. She shook out the stinging sensation of pins and needles in her arm and stuck out her other hand. Unfortunately, her mom had been reaching out at the same time and she managed to slap her hand away instead. “Oh, stars! I’m so sorry! I—” She grabbed her hand — smoother and less calloused than Will remembered — gave it three firm shakes and dropped it like a hot potato. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m Will. Nice to meet you. Miss. Ma’am.”

There was a moment of not-quite-silence because Maggie was laughing openly now. Her mom pressed her lips together, eyes alight with humor. She covered her mouth for a second, coughed, and then said, “Nice to meet you, Will. Call me Macy.”

Well, Will would try at least. She smiled. “Are you joining us?”

“Just for a little bit. I ordered to go.”

“Please, sit,” Will said, gesturing to the chair across from hers. Casual, she thought. Just be casual. She waited until they were all seated before speaking again. “Are you working through lunch then?”

“Kind of,” Her mom, no, _Macy_ said. She clasped her hands on the table. “My other sister and my...friend are waiting back in our meeting room.”

_Friend?_

Will resisted the urge to frown and ask about her dad, still traumatized from Aunt Mel’s mistaken assumption yesterday. She was gratified when Maggie shot a look at her mom, clearly as startled by the label as she was.

Macy touched Maggie’s hand briefly and from the way her aunt settled back in her chair, expression smoothed out, they must have spoken telepathically. What was that about?

Someone nudged her foot and a thought came into her head, unbidden, _They’re fine, Will. Don’t worry about it._

Out loud, Maggie said, “She’s met Mel, actually. They were like two peas in a pod on fire.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying—”

“I would never set anything on fire,” Will said emphatically. It was never too early to let your mother know you had no inclinations to pyromancy. “Like, not even—Well, maybe a candle. Or a torch. Or creme—”

“Okay,” Macy said, blinking at her. “Good to know.”

“Right?”

“Right,” Macy said. She lifted her eyebrows and looked over to Maggie.

“So right,” Maggie said brightly. She kicked Will, no words this time, just a feeling of pure exasperation. “Say no to fires, kids.” 

Macy frowned. “Maybe you guys are working too hard.”

Will bit her tongue. There were so many things she wanted to say and so many things she couldn’t. Her aunts had told her to keep it casual and not hit on anything she really wasn’t supposed to know about. The kind of conversation you’d have with strangers. But it was literally impossible for Will to think of her mom as one, even as different as she seemed. Still, there was too much at stake not to listen to her aunts so she cast about for something to say instead. 

The garlands caught her eye again, still mocking. Well, that was an idea at least. “Do you guys have plans for Christmas?”

“A delicious dinner and some gifts, I think,” Maggie answered, smiling. “Right, Mace?”

“Something like that.”

“That sounds nice. Christmas dinners are the best,” Will said wholeheartedly. She could almost taste the stuffing and gravy she always helped her parents make; the brandy-butter pudding no one but her, her dad, and strangely enough, Aunt Mel liked; the Christmas crackers she and her cousins would pull apart, competing to see who got the silliest paper hat. She’d have all those waiting for her when she went home. If they didn’t kill her first for time-traveling, anyway. And if whatever answers she found in this time were enough to understand why the situation at home had become unbearable. 

Maggie smiled. “Totally.”

“What are you having?” Will asked. “Is someone cooking?”

“I think Macy’s baking something and—”

Stiffly, and with a pointed look at Will, Macy said, “It’s a private affair.”

“Oh.” Will blinked. “I-I was just asking about the food.”

“ _Mace_ ,” Maggie said, frowning.

“The past couple of Christmases have been hell,” Macy said, ignoring Will altogether. Whatever amusement she’d had for Will had clearly passed. “I’d rather keep this one to ourselves, details and all. I don’t want to tempt fate a third time.”

“Mace,” Maggie said, in an entirely different tone. There was a world of meaning there, but the one that stuck out the most was sympathy. She reached out to give her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Okay.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Will said. “Sorry.” 

Finally, her mom looked at her, expression softening by a fraction. “I’m the one who should apologize. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Then something flickered in her eyes and a chill went up Will’s spine. “Right?”

“Excuse me?” Will frowned, confused. Her mom continued to stare at her, head tilted like she was studying something in a lab. Will had the sudden urge to hide behind Maggie, as ridiculous as that would have looked. 

“You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

Maggie grabbed Macy’s arm, leaning into her line of sight. “Hey, let’s take a breath, alright?”

There was a long silent moment, another telepathic conversation between the sisters. Will sat absolutely still and tried not to make a sound. Magic was building in the air like a rising hum. Nobody else noticed, of course, but Will had to work hard to keep her breathing at a normal pace. Something was seriously wrong. How did an innocent question about Christmas dinner lead to this? She was missing something. She was missing a lot of things. 

Finally, just as Will was contemplating hiding under the table, the magic ebbed until it lay hidden behind the veil again. Will sneaked a glance up to see her mom tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, lips pursed together in a severe line. Maggie caught Will looking and the worried look on her face immediately vanished, a reassuring smile replacing it instead.

“I’m sorry,” Macy said, reaching over to pat Will’s hand awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Will shook her head, shaken but relieved. “Don’t worry about it. I get a little snippy when I’m hungry too.”

“And stressed,” Maggie added, eyebrows raised meaningfully at Will. “A lot of things have happened over the past year. We’re all still kind of dealing with that.”

“I’m sure Will doesn’t need to know about our family problems, Maggie.” 

“You nearly took her head off—metaphorically speaking. I’m just saying.”

“Right,” Macy said, flushing a little. “Sorry again. Listen, I’ll just go and wait for my order at the counter. You two enjoy your lunch.”

“No, it’s okay!” Will said, catching a fuzzy sleeve before her mom could get up. She tried to put as much sincerity in her smile as she could. “Stay. I think Miss Maggie was just about to catch me up on the SafeSpace beehive. Still kind of finding my feet, you know. Want in?”

Maggie turned to her sister then, grinning. “Yeah, Mace, I got office shenanigans and—” she paused, looking around dramatically, then leaned in to whisper sotto voce, “—surprise party planning for, like, at least five people. Help me out.”

A reluctant smile pulled at the corner of her Macy’s mouth. “Only if you don’t use the word ‘office’ again. Swan has bat ears. Okay, dish. What’s up in SafeSpace land?”

As Maggie caught them both up, animated and engaging, her mom relaxed bit by bit. It was fascinating to watch her respond warmly to Maggie, but Will’s comments received only polite interest. At least they managed to avoid any more conversational landmines. Will tried to think back to all the stories she’d heard over the years but couldn’t remember anything specific about what her family had been up to in this time period. What about Christmas or fate or whatever would have her mom reacting so defensively. So suspiciously. Twenty-four years was ancient history she’d only ever been mildly interested in. Her cousins had cautioned her to at least gather more information but she hadn’t had the patience. She sighed. They were never going to let her live this down.

“—right, Will?”

Will blinked. “Sorry?”

“I said Dylan and Michael are so cute together. I’m pairing them for the afternoon tasks.”

“Oh! Good idea. Michael’s so shy, he keeps clamming up when Dylan talks to him.”

“Who?” Macy asked. 

“Two of my Helpers,” Maggie said. “Dylan has blue hair and Michael’s the young Idris Elba lookalike. Shoulders like a linebacker.”

“Playing matchmaker again?” Macy laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t lock them in a creepy basement, powerless — I mean, cellphone-less — and accidentally forget about them for six hours.”

“That’s weirdly specific,” Will said. 

Maggie huffed. “In my defense—”

A bell from the counter started ringing. Will looked over to see the server waving at her mom, who nodded back and stood. “Abe’s got my order up. I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Will.”

“You too.” 

“Mags, I’ll see you later.”

“You and Mel be careful, okay?”

Her mom gave them one last smile before she walked over to the counter, dodging a weaving busboy with the kind of grace Will despaired of ever having. She seemed friendly with the server, Abe, lingering to talk with him even when he’d already handed her the stuffed bag and grinning at whatever he’d said. Will felt jealous for a moment, a little annoyed that her mom seemed more at ease with a stranger than her own daughter.

She turned to Maggie. “You locked them in a basement? That’s so cliche.”

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a closet.” Maggie grimaced. “Would have worked too except we were all super high on Pixie dust — so not our fault, by the way — and I locked her in with the wrong guy.”

“Pixie dust makes you hallucinate?”

“No, but it gets really hard to think clearly.” Shrugging sheepishly, Maggie said, “I thought Jimmy was Harry. To be fair, he was looking at Macy like she hung the moon and not trying to kill us so… Anyone would have gotten them confused, okay? Pixie dust!”

“Who’s Jimmy?”

There was a sharp crack and several people looked around. When nothing seemed amiss, they went back to their food and went on with their conversations. Will and Maggie knew better. A bolt of uncontrolled magic had torn through the room, and though quickly restrained, it was pretty obvious who the source was.

Her mom was still at the counter, smiling stiffly at Abe. Abe was looking behind him, scanning the shelves and the ground below, but shrugged after a moment and turned back to Macy. He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to her with a hopeful smile. Macy nodded, and even from twenty feet away, Will could see the tightness in her jaw. She waved goodbye and left, knuckles white around the bag’s handle.

Will frowned, glaring at Abe. “What a jerk.”

“What?” Maggie said, tone distracted as she looked around the room for something. 

“That Abe guy. Mom obviously didn’t like him flirting with her.”

“He wasn’t flirting with her. Abe’s gay. And, like, one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.”

“But he gave my mom his number.” 

Maggie shook her head, laughing a little. “That’s not for your mom.” Her eyes narrowed. “There. Look up, Will.”

Over their heads, the garlands had become lopsided, one end hanging down like a fuzzy green snake. The wooden facade it had been attached to had a long crack running down it, big enough that someone was bound to notice soon. Maggie muttered something under her breath, lyrical and with intent, and the crack smoothed over, becoming whole again.

“So,” Maggie said, spearing a cherry tomato and pointing it at Will. “Your mom. Thoughts? Suggestions? Emoji reactions?”

“Questions,” Will said decisively, staring at where the crack had been. “I have a lot of questions, Aunt Mags.”

And a pit forming in her gut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really stop saying when I'm going to finish something. This Christmas story has gone unfinished way past Christmas. I had a devil of a time trying to decide what Will should be calling Macy in her head. This perspective is weird.
> 
> Also, changing the chapter format because it's just easier to divide that way. 
> 
> Next chapter: so much Hacy.


	3. Chapter 3

—————

**MACY**

Harry and Mel were engaged in an intense game of paper football when she got back to the command center. Macy paused at the top of the stairs, watching them with a smile. It was Mel’s turn and the challenging expression she aimed at her opponent right before she took her shot only made him smirk. 

She missed.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” Mel cried out, throwing her hands up in disgust. “Five in a row. How can I miss five in a row!”

Harry shrugged, setting up for his shot. “Not your day, I suppose. Come on, no dilly-dallying.”

Grumbling, Mel settled back in her seat, putting her fingers together on the table to form the goal.

Harry scored.

The folded triangle was promptly thrown back at his grinning face. Mel leaned over the table, glaring. “You’re cheating.”

“How dare you,” he said. “I would never—”

“He’s cheating,” Macy said, laughing at the look of betrayal Harry turned on her as she came down the stairs. “I can feel him using telekinesis.”

With an outraged cry, Mel grabbed a handful of the little triangles and started pelting Harry with them. “I knew it! Your loser ass can’t beat me fair and square. I demand a rematch!”

“Alright, alright!” Harry cried out, peeking cautiously from behind his arms. When no more projectiles came flying at him, he relaxed, brushing off the ones that had landed in his hair. He held up his hands, placating. “I’m sorry.”

Mel snorted. “No, you’re not.”

Harry paused. “Well, alright. I’m not. Watching your face turn red was quite funny.”

“This new you is an annoying little shit,” Mel said, rolling her eyes. Then she grinned, wicked and wide. “I’m going to teach you not to mess with me, Greenwood.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m scared.”

“Okay, children,” Macy said, clapping loudly to get their attention. She sighed at them both, exasperated. “Food’s here. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Actually,” Mel said, looking down at her phone. “I think I’m going to eat with Maggie instead. And Will. You met her, right?”

“Yeah, nice kid. Looked familiar.”

“Did she? Probably just one of those faces,” Mel said. “You’ll meet her later, Harry. Betcha you’ll love her.”

Harry looked up from where he was clearing the table. “Who?”

“One of Maggie’s interns,” Macy said, keeping her tone casual. “I met her in the cafeteria.”

Mel came around the table to rummage in the bag for her lunch. She flicked one last paper triangle at Harry, which he caught without looking, and marched up the stairs. Before the door closed, she stuck her head back in, smiling in a way that would be mistaken for sweet by people who didn’t know her. “I’ll be back in 40 minutes. Set a timer.” She ducked back out. “Have fun!”

Harry sighed. “Are they ever going to stop that?”

“Not until we’re ready to strangle them.” Macy shook her head. “Family privileges. Or so I’m told.”

“Fantastic,” he said, walking over to help lay out the food. “Thank you for getting lunch.”

“No problem. You look better rested,” she said, brushing a hand over his hair to pluck out a piece of paper he’d missed.

He flicked a glance up the stairs fondly. “For someone so intense, Mel really is quite relaxing to be with.” 

“Speaking of Mel,” Macy started, not the smoothest subject change but she didn’t want to put this off. “Maggie said you haven’t meditated with her in a while. I thought it was helping you?” When he stilled, she met his eyes and smiled. “You don’t have to talk now, but we agreed to try, remember? Especially when it’s the last thing we want to do.” 

They’d agreed to try in many ways, in fact, but talking to each other had been the one point they’d agreed on immediately. Being relatively quiet and reserved people made their close intimacy as easy as breathing, but as their particular road had shown, it also made them spectacularly terrible at dealing with each other’s hidden demons. Trying to be more open, more communicative, was difficult and exhausting and neither of them fell naturally to it. But vulnerability meant trust and that was worth everything in Macy’s opinion. Harry had said the same thing one day and she knew then that they’d reached a turning point.

He nodded now, taking her hand and folding it in his. “It _was_ helping. But once the initial shock wore off, it became obvious Jimmy was worse off than we thought. There was—is madness in him. In me. Sixty years in a bottle, feeling nothing, being nothing, fractured my—his psyche. And now… I’m afraid of confronting my mind. The memories, the emotions — they’re all still terribly jumbled. Like jagged puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit. I’m terrified of triggering something. Mel doesn’t deserve to be burdened with whatever may be in there. Nor Maggie when she inevitably decides to help. At the very least, not until I feel more in control.” He swallowed. “I don’t trust myself enough not to put either of them in danger.”

“And me?”

“You make me still. Certain in a way that nothing else is. But I refuse to use you as a crutch. You’re far more than that.”

Her heart twisted. “It’s okay to depend on other people.”

He smiled then. “I already am. Believe me, just knowing that I have you and your sisters helps immensely. It keeps me grounded and not lost in my head.” Chuckling, he added, “And there’s Jordan too.”

Macy laughed. “I’m not sure he’d agree. I saw him limping the last time you went at it.”

“Oh please, he was putting it on. For a mortal, he’s impressively durable. And I do heal him every time.”

“Sparring really helps?”

He nodded. “It’s like a valve, letting out just enough pressure to keep things level. And there’s no danger of pulling anyone into my mind or being stuck there myself.”

“But it’s not enough.” 

Not a question this time. A little exercise couldn’t erase Jimmy’s unrelenting anger or Harry’s guilt over what Jimmy had done, Macy was sure of that. He’d asked her once after she’d tried to tell him it wasn’t his burden, who should answer for his crimes. After all, he and Jimmy were one and the same now. What Jimmy had done, _he’d_ done. She hadn’t been able to answer and they’d lain in bed unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

“It’ll do for the moment. But something else will have to be done in future.” He looked amused, suddenly. "Perhaps there’s a supernaturally-inclined therapist out there.”

“Or a vision quest.” Macy smiled. One of the better qualities Jimmy had given him was an irrepressible, if slightly twisted, humor. Despite having the mental and emotional landscape of a minefield in a tornado, Harry had almost perversely become less inclined to brooding and being grim. “Always works on Heaven’s Vice.”

“So long as no one actually enters my head, I’ll take it.” The humor faded a bit, and he pressed his lips together. “I should have said something sooner. I’m sorry.”

“Caution: work-in-progress,” Macy said, pleased when that drew a small laugh out of him. “Maybe my sisters and I can’t be the solution, but if there’s anything out there that can help, we’ll help you find it.”

He nodded, the expression on his face so grateful it made her chest ache. “Thank you.”

She swallowed thickly, leaning forward to plant a light kiss on his mouth. “I need to tell you something. But after we eat. I know for a fact that Abe—” Her fingers curled tightly in his shirt. “—put a Bakewell tart in there just for you.”

The way his face brightened helped ease the knot in her chest, but did nothing to loosen the hold she had around his hand. He didn’t seem to mind, simply leading her over to the table to sit. 

“Best get started then,” he said, serving her a plate with his one free hand. It was so ridiculous but she couldn’t make herself let go. “If Mel comes back to see us still eating, we’ll never hear the end of it. What else were you doing, Harry? What else were you doing?”

Macy laughed and kissed him again. His American accent was terrible.

—————

“We should leave some of the mess out,” Macy said, handing Harry the last of the used containers. “Just to throw Mel off.”

He chuckled. “And have her giving us sly looks every time she leaves us alone?”

“Doesn’t she already do that?” 

“Good point.”

She watched him for another moment, caught by the way he seemed so much more at ease in his body, then sighed and decided she’d stalled long enough. Paper crinkled as she slipped a hand into her pocket. “Here. Abe asked me to give this to you.”

Harry set the recycling aside, wiping off his hands. He took the piece of paper from her, blinking down at it. “Oh. His number.”

“Yup.”

“...it’s singed around the edges.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

Macy felt heat on her cheeks, but didn’t look away. “You know why.”

Harry set the paper aside on the table, then settled against it himself so he was half-sat on the edge. He reached out and pulled Macy close, smiling. “I think we’ve thoroughly established I’m not interested in anyone else. Is this what you needed to tell me?”

“Not exactly,” Macy said, winding her arms around his shoulders. She took a deep breath. “Everyone tried to tell me what it was going to be like. Parker, Abi—” She gritted her teeth, consciously trying to keep her grip from tightening around him. “Abigael. They said my demon side would amply everything, especially the negative emotions. They said it would be hard to control. I thought I had a handle on it. Logically, it should be better. The conditions are better and I’m sure—” she made sure Harry was paying attention, wanting him to see how much she meant what she was about to say, “I’m _absolutely_ sure of you. Of us. This is it.”

“Yes,” Harry said simply, drawing her down into a lingering kiss, full of the words he didn’t need to say.

Forcing herself to pull back, Macy ran a hand down the side of his face, throat tight. “But they were right and it’s only gotten worse.”

His arms went around her waist, a loose undemanding hold. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it was just taking a while to sink in that it’s all good now, but it’s escalated exponentially in the last couple of weeks. At first, it was just me being a little annoyed when other witches called you out to help them. Mel said new couples can be clingy so I thought I’d get over it. I didn’t.”

“You were upset last night.” Harry looked contrite. “I thought you were just tired.”

Macy swallowed. “More than upset. I was angry. I was so angry I had to take a calming potion just to sleep.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Macy said, hands spasming around his shoulders. “I’m the one who should apologize. It isn’t just other witches taking your time — it’s everything. I obsess over what you’re doing when you’re not with me or my sisters. Who you’re with.” She had to resist the urge to look away in shame. “I practically blew up on Maggie’s protege in the cafeteria because I feel like anyone we meet is just going to be a threat to our family. I almost brought the ceiling down on Abe because the thought of anyone taking you away from me, as irrational as it is, makes the demon in me want to tear someone apart.” Macy paused, breathing hard, a jittery panic under her skin. It was getting harder and harder to look Harry in the eye. “You know how bad Parker got when he was under the influence of those apples? I’m not there yet but I feel like that’s where I’m heading. It tracks. The heightened possessiveness, the paranoia, the jealousy. The symptoms are all there.”

“Macy—”

“It’s why I didn’t want to go public,” Macy blurted out. Here it was. The worst thing she’d done to him so far. “Being happy seems like an invitation for bad things to happen. I was paranoid that if people knew about us, if it was out there, someone, something would try to take it away.” She let out a shaky breath. “But it’s only made everything worse. Every time someone approaches you—because I won’t allow you to say you’re not available—I feel sick. Then I just want to keep you to myself more and it becomes a cycle. And all I’ve done is make you miserable.”

Harry drew Macy’s hands from his shoulders and she was afraid for a second that he couldn’t bear her touch anymore. But all he did was press his lips to her knuckles. “I assure you, you haven’t made me miserable in any way. Quite the opposite,” he said firmly. His gaze was steady, patient, and she didn’t understand why. “And you’re not ‘allowing’ me to do anything. Or not do anything, as the case may be. We made that decision together.”

“But it’s not what you want.” 

“No, you’re right, it isn’t,” he said. “But it’s rather pointless if you’re not comfortable with it and that’s more important to me than anything.”

Charity had hidden him away. Jimmy had been hidden away. How could Harry tolerate it? Macy sometimes thought he loved too much, too generously and even though he was supposed to be more balanced now, maybe Jimmy’s desperation to feel had only exacerbated that tendency.

Tremulously, she asked, “What if I’m taking advantage of you? What if all of this is just me trying to—” She stopped, the words stuck in her throat. Harry squeezed her hands, silently encouraging. “What if all this is me trying to control you?”

There was a long silence and the only reason Macy could breathe through it was that Harry didn't move an inch. He was looking at their joined hands, head bowed in thought. She wondered, in the morbid part of her brain where her worst thoughts lived, if he was thinking about that time he’d told her and her sisters — when it seemed like a possibility — that he’d rather die than let anyone control him again.

(The memory was vivid in her mind. The night of the Merge. Neither Harry nor James had wanted it. For Harry, it had been another form of control, another being who would have influence over him that he didn’t want. For James, it had been the terror of death — he’d known that Harry would emerge the dominant identity, sixty years of life and a fire-forged will was a head-start he couldn’t overcome. But in the end, he’d proven himself more like the half he detested and chosen freedom over a shackled existence. He hadn’t trusted himself — hadn’t trusted Harry’s revulsion and desire for control not to just obliterate him, but he’d trusted Maggie and Mel when they’d told him they wanted him to survive despite everything. He’d trusted Macy when she said she wanted him to live. And Harry, proving himself like James in that way, had trusted his family’s love for him and given himself over to be made whole despite his fear.)

Finally, Harry raised his head, an unreadable look on his face as he met her eyes. 

“Do you want to control me, Macy?” 

“No. _Never_.” The answer was out of her mouth before she was aware she’d spoken. “I’d kill anyone who tried. Anyone. I—” She cut herself off, breathing hard, eyes wide. The surge of protective anger had rushed in like a tide, erasing fear and uncertainty. There were no mirrors in the command center except for the enchanted ones locked in the vault, but she didn’t need one. She knew without having to look that the inky black of demonic intent had filled her eyes. “No,” she repeated firmly, sure of her answer. The words came easily. “I don’t want to control you.”

Harry smiled, green eyes so soft and warm she had to kiss him. “It appears all of you are in agreement,” he said when they parted, tracing the bone around her eyes with his fingertips. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Harry, none of this is alright,” Macy said, fighting the exasperated smile pulling at her mouth. She slid her hands from his face to settle lightly around the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure everything I just said is a red flag.”

“Half of me is made up almost entirely of red flags,” he said, eyebrows raised pointedly. “Neither of us are running.”

“No, we’re done doing that.”

“Precisely.”

Macy felt the shift when her demon retreated and she laughed, so relieved she would have fallen to her knees if Harry wasn’t bracing her solidly against him. “If we ever find that supernatural therapist, I’m booking an appointment too.”

“They’re certainly going to have their work cut out for them,” Harry said, an amused twinkle in his eye. Dark humor, Macy decided, was a coping mechanism she could get behind. “In the meantime, tell me what helps.”

“Talking it out with you. With Mel and Maggie. It’s a little embarrassing sometimes, but it helps a lot.”

“That’s good. We both need the practice. What else?”

“This,” she said, pressing closer, fingers tightening around his neck just the slightest bit. The way his pulse jumped against her thumb was utterly intoxicating. “This helps.” 

Harry’s breath became unsteady, ragged enough that the sound of it dragged against her ears like a physical touch. In. Out. Macy shivered. Harry closed his eyes and made to bow his head, hide his face, but she refused to let him. The softest touch on his jaw was enough to tip his head up, face bared willingly to her gaze.

It was one thing to witness this reaction, this responsiveness from James. With him, it was a thrilling rush, sparked by the way he’d all but surrendered that night they’d danced in New York. And every time they met after, when he seemed helplessly drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. The demon in her had basked in the power she had over him as twisted as it had been.

To see it on Harry, with his iron reserve and self-possession, was something else entirely. This time she was the one who felt helpless, drugged, drawn into the light. She trailed her other hand on the planes of his face, stroking her fingers over elegant brows, a slightly upturned nose, and a soft mouth. She lingered at his jaw, following the sharp edge, slipping down the column of his neck to the base of his throat. His pulse beat madly against the press of her fingers. 

That she could touch him whenever she wanted, casually and intimately, was still heady to think about. Actually doing it was exhilarating in a way she’d never felt before.

That he was allowing her to put her hands around his neck when he could barely stand to have a tie around it was almost too enormous to process. The implicit trust made her chest ache.

“Well,” Harry said, eyes blown dark. Heat curled low in Macy’s stomach. “Certainly.”

Macy bent down to catch his mouth and Harry responded eagerly. She felt ablaze everywhere they touched. For a while, everything else faded into the background, until an insistent noise cut through the heated haze and Macy realized she’d pulled the neck of Harry’s shirt to the side and was sucking a mark into his collarbone.

“That’s my phone,” Harry said breathlessly. He reached behind him, accidentally knocking a few sheets of paper to the ground. With an exasperated groan, he turned the screen towards Macy:

BE DECENT IN TEN. 

-MEL

Macy sighed, the frenzied passion receding. She stole one last kiss before buttoning the top of Harry’s shirt for him. “Mel will know anyway, but you shouldn’t unbutton that.”

“What?” With a sheepish look, she borrowed his phone to take a picture of the incriminating evidence. “Oh. We’re definitely caught.”

Laughing, Macy said, “Who knows, maybe they’ll stop teasing now.”

“We can only dream.” Harry sighed, pushing away from the table. He bent down to gather the fallen papers, pausing as something caught his eye. “Did Mel tell you she was doing temporal research?” 

“No, I don’t think so.”

He handed her the papers. “What do you make of that?”

Macy scanned the blocky writing. “For her powers, maybe? ‘Temporal displacement’… Isn’t that time-travel?” Eyebrow raised, she added excitedly, “If Mel manages it, that would be really fascinating.”

“And here,” Harry said, pointing to two words that had been written off to the side like an afterthought. “Temporal phages. Devourers of time.” He frowned, a thoughtful look on his face. “Did Mel talk to Layla’s group this morning?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“They called me out because they needed me to heal phage injuries. We couldn’t determine what kind of phage had attacked but the wounds are always similar.” Harry shrugged. “Perhaps Mel’s found a particularly disturbing answer.”

“Why disturbing?”

“Because if I remember correctly, temporal phages track temporal disturbances. Which means there’s a rift somewhere that must be fixed.”

“Or a time-traveler,” Macy said, caught by the idea. How amazing would that be? 

Harry frowned. “I sincerely hope not. A traveler might affect Fate without meaning to or worse, try to change things on purpose. And the phage would certainly hunt them down.”

“Why are we always talking people being eaten?”

“Well it’s just conjecture for now. I hope Mel can enlighten us.”

Macy checked her watch, shaking her head. “That’s going to have to wait until we get back. The gnomes get pissy and uncooperative when appointments are late.”

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding at the door, making them jump.

“You guys decent?” Mel hollered.

Harry turned to Macy. “Do I look presentable?”

“Nope,” Macy said, eyeing the mess she’d made of his hair. “Do I?”

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “Absolutely not.”

They exchanged a look, resigned. They were never going to hear the end of it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was extremely self-indulgent, but I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Next chapter: Harry meets Will and some action.


End file.
